vainglorious

brookehatfield:

I would rather spend two hours sharing fried green beans with bernie madoff than watch a woman who apparently purchased her intellect at t.j. maxx for $2 chase twenty-five men with biceps made of pewter and heads packed with cinnamon toast crunch.

Because when future generations look upon what we have left for them, which may by then be little more than off-shore drilling and millions of non-biodegradable garage door openers, I fear they will conclude that they would have welcomed bread and circuses if only they had realized the alternative was sour cream and onion pringles and “the real housewives of atlanta.”

[sits down and crosses arms, but then immediately stands back up]

And let me tell you a little something about romance: Handing out roses like you are a mascot throwing everlasting gobstoppers to the assembled hooligans at a braves game is not my idea of romance. Romance is a man who knows the difference between John Adams and john jacob jingleheimer schmidt and who is capable of putting on culottes without scratching his head as if he is connecting a VCR without the instruction manual.

So do not ask yourself why I do not particularly enjoy a television show where the assembled male candidates represent romantic prospects inferior to the workers on the night shift at the chili’s in tifton. Ask yourself whether, after a lifetime playing with a cultural teddy ruxpinand dancing on the grave of anna karenina, you will ever…recover…your dignity

make your own here.

THIS IS AMAZING. And totally brightens my day. Making my own now…